


The archivist and the gladiator

by Warlady



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6850786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warlady/pseuds/Warlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orion Pax paid for his first time with Megatron, and both get more than they expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The archivist and the gladiator

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot, while I wait for my beta to return me another chapter of other fanfic.  
> No beta or proof-read for this one, so please be lenient with my English, keep in mind I am not a native speaker.

I simply can’t believe the nerve of this little mech.  Many other bots, taller and with a bulkier frame than him, just stutter when they present before me to climb on my berth.  Yet this youngster, with his angel-like face, stands at my alcove door looking resolutely and  just utters ‘ _I want to interface with you’_ with his soft beautiful voice not breaking a bit.  Though, his quivering E.M. field betrays totally his attempt to look nonchalant.

 

“So, you are the one that sent word with Madame Contessa? Your designation is Orion Pax, isn’t it?”

 

He just nods with his helm, visibly shaken; it seems all his bravery disappeared after my first words. It’s usual, after all, I know my frame is imposing but my voice is not an asset to be taken lightly. I decide to be kind with him, and give him time to recoil if he so decides. “I know you already paid my wages to the madame, but if you have second thoughts I can give you your money back.”

 

“No, I…I am sure.” His voice is a mere whisper. For someone so young and slight in frame I am astonished he just didn’t run in horror when I first opened the gate. “Come inside, we will settle the business final details more comfortably.”

 

I extend my arm to invite him in, leaving space for him to enter. He ex-vents, seemingly he has been keeping from taking air, and steps inside my inner sanctum.  His expression of awe, when he finally discovers where the Terror of the Pits of Kaon lives, is priceless.

 

It is nothing as my first times in the Coliseum, when the packed, stinky and dirty rooms of the Gladiators were the best I could pay for with my little earnings in the arena. It changed the minute I decided to enter a death match. I felt nauseated, the vivid blue of energon staining my servos and facial plating while a mech laid at my pedes, death spasms shaking his agonizing frame. But the shanix was enough as to cure me from my revolted fuel-tank. For that moment on I saved enough to buy this little place, filled it with all the necessary possessions I never had, and even some other superfluous things that made me feel as a real King of the Pits.

 

“I assume my room is of your liking, Orion.” I put my servo on his shoulder and press softly. Then I take his servo in mine and guide him to the side of the berth.

 

“Yes, it is…well…”

 

“Obscenely tasteless and tacky, I know, but the berth is big and comfortable and the wash rack is clean and well provided with everything you could need.” I press him down until he sits on the soft padding of the berth.

 

Orion faceplates turn a very deep shade of blue.

 

I sit at his side, and a doubt assaults me. “Are your seals still in place?”

 

“No, a medic broke them already. But I’m untouched.” He lowers his optics, the bluish tint of his face goes deeper if its possible. Oh, how so delicious innocence.

 

“Good, then I will be careful with you, my young Orion.” I tilt his face with the tip of my digits and I lose in those cerulean eyes.  That mouth, as a ripe vein of energon, waiting to be taken, devoured. I can’t help it I just close the small distance between us and kiss him.  I feel him tensing, and then relaxing, his little servos go to my chest plates. Primus, are his palms warm!

 

He breaks first the contact of our lipplates, inventing through his mouth and the unmistakable sound of his set of fans coming to life. He is all revved up already.

 

“I’ve never been kissed, not like this.” Orions’ voice denotes surprise as well pleasure, and in his flaring field I can’t mistake the real level of arousal his young frame is feeling.

 

“Just wait, my darling one, we are just beginning.” My voice fails a little, I’m I that turned on? It was just a kiss, even a chaste one for that matter! Though, my frame is heating and I feel a strange fluttering in my spark, how odd!

 

All is happening too fast! I find myself on him, like an animal looming on its pray, my heavy frame supported on arms and knees. I can’t have enough of this, the taste of his mouth, the flexible tendons on his neck, the hot lines of energon that lies beneath pulsing in earnest, and the soft and delicious little portions of protoform mesh that I can barely reach with the tip of my glossa. While I relish the mapping of Orion’s neck, I can feel the heat in my sensornet increasing by the moans and little keening sounds my ministration elicits from him.  His field is totally unrestrained now and it feels thick and pleasant like a wet wave of warm oil against mine.

 

I worship him and I explore every crevice, every seam of Orion’s young frame, until I reach the most private parts of his virgin anatomy. At this point his interface array is still covered, but with a soft pressure inside the seams of his pelvic area the modesty panel slides away and let exposed the oh so arousing sight of his spike fully pressurized and his small valve already soaked in lubricant.

 

Oh, the smell, the heady scent of his lust is like crystal flowers oil, precious. I lose myself in the soft sensation of the hot outer folds of his valve against my mouth, the sensitive biolights sparking with static my tongue with every flicker of it, the fluid in my intake and smearing my faceplates.  I tease him endlessly, enjoying it to the last click. 

 

To my audials come his moans, more acute and loud now, mixed with calls to Primus and the Unmaker, and the rattling of his plating caused by the sudden tremors of his frame.  His overload is imminent; I take the anterior node, that sensitive little bundle of neural terminations, with my lips and give it a sharp pull. That has the effect I expected.  With a shrill cry and an impossible arch of his lithe frame, Orion reaches the peak.  I have not only a sudden flow of lubricant on my glossa, but a long stream of transfluid right in my face.  

 

As Orion descends from the crest of his overload his optics closes and he takes several intakes of air. The whirring sound of his fans working furiously trying to dispel some of the heat from his inner components and frame fills the silence of my chamber. Some small shakes of his plating realigning and a little smile tugging at the corners of his delectable mouth is the only hint of his being still on-line.

 

I wipe my face with some clothes I always have at servo for this cases.

 

“I’m sorry.” He mutters. “I didn’t want to soil you.” Oh, Primus, is he pouting? What an adorable vision.

 

“Don’t worry, Orion. No matter how delectable are your fluids, once they dry are not easy to take off from the face plate little seams.”

 

His sudden intent to leave the berth alarms me. “Where do you think you are going?”

 

“Hum, sorry I thought you said I could use the washrack…”

 

“Well, yes you can of course, but we are just not finished, we have all night and even part of the day if you wish.” No way am I letting him leave my room now, not until he leaves limping and glowing in joy.

 

“But, I just paid for…well…”

 

How sweet how he can’t utter what we just performed. “Oral sex? Yes, that was what Contessa told me. But, are you not eager to have more and even better ways of interface, even penetration if so you want?”

 

“I have not money on me, or in other place for that matter.” The blush was not one of arousal this time, but mortification for his lack of funds.

 

The madame had filed me thoroughly about his profile: young, naive, middle caste, archivist. Obviously although better paid than the lower castes, still he has not enough spare shanix to rent a Gladiator like me for all that I am eager to give him.

 

“Oh, pitty, I think you will have to work for the rest of the traits. How about that, little Orion, do you think you learned how to use that little mouth of you in a valve of other mech, let’s say…my valve?” I am risking here, but if he decides to say no it won’t matter I still plan to defile his delicious frame to his total pleasure and exertion. I can always say it is a courtesy of the house.

 

“I may not be as good as you…but I am a fast learner.” Devious, that’s the only word that can describe his beautiful face, a wicked grin curving those sinful lips and his optics half-mast, his helm tilted coquettishly to show that beautiful extent of neck cables.

 

I have the funny sensation that I just get into a trouble.

 

 

 


End file.
